But to him each familiar object was bound by
a thousand memories. And it was the loss of these which could never be
replaced that cut him to the quick.
Meanwhile this was the kind of thing he had to listen to.
"'Ere now, ladies and gents, we 'ave a very fine pier glass--a very
chaste and tasty pier glass indeed--a red addition to any lady's
drawin'room.--Mrs. Rupp? Do I understand you aright, Mrs. Rupp? Mrs.
Rupp offers twelve bob for this very 'andsome article. Twelve bob ...
going twelve.... Fifteen? Thank you, Mrs. Bromby! Going fifteen . . .
going--going--Eighteen? Right you are, my dear!" and so on.
It had a history had that pier glass; its purchase dated from a time in
their lives when they had been forced to turn each shilling in the palm.
Mary had espied it one day in Plaistows' Stores, and had set her heart
on buying it. How she had schemed to scrape the money together!--saving
so much on a new gown, so much on bonnet and mantle. He remembered, as
if it were yesterday, the morning on which she had burst in, eyes and
cheeks aglow, to tell him that she had managed it at last, and how they
had gone off arm in arm to secure the prize. Yes, for all their poverty,
those had been happy days. Little extravagances such as this, or the
trifling gifts they had contrived to make each other had given far more
pleasure than the costlier presents of later years.
"The next article I draw your attention to is a sofer," went on the
voice, sounding suddenly closer; and with a great trampling and
shuffling the crowd trooped after it to the adjoining room.
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